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Then a panicked thought occurs to me. “Wait. You can only use your expellant twice?”

“No. Many times. It is a defense at other moments. But only for a zhannel twice.”

“So are you putting this in the defense category?” I ask, intrigued despite myself.

“You are thinking too much,” zha chides as zha takes a long breath.

My eyes dart to zha’s four nostrils, from where a mist is now wafting.

I try to wriggle away, alarmed. “Of course I am, I—”

No more words come out because suddenly my mouth is filled with a cloying scent. Slightly caustic, but also sweet. Like persimmon, with cinnamon, and some sort of alien musk.

I haven’t decided if I like it before it hits my lungs and instead of the cough I expect, I’m taking a deeper and deeper breath. Like I can’t stop myself.

My exhale is a moan as my entire body convulses, stomach muscles rippling and my thighs clenching as the place between my legs throbs. One more deep breath in and my back is arching, an explosion of pleasure racing up my spine.

Kroaicho makes a startled sound and releases zha’s grip and I feel the wrong sort of nerves firing up at the lighter touch.

“No,” I gasp out, anger tinging my tone. “Harder.”

My ribs creak in protest when zha complies and the pleasure rushes back in. Every breath of the mist sends pleasure racing along all of my neurons, but not in the unpleasant way I associate with things that stress me. There is no answering risk of a shut down.

For once, it’s my body on fire and not my mind.

I understand now. This is what other people have experienced, but something touch could never bring me before.

“Again,” I slur out, mind spinning in the best way possible.

My whole body is glowing green and throbbing soon after. A bright pink eye is watching me intently when I come back to myself. Ripples of pleasure loosening my muscles in all the right ways.

I hadn’t realized just how wound up I was. Now I feel wonderfully loose, which is further helped by just how tight of a hold I’m in.

My mind drifts for a moment, but then I call my attention back sharply. Kroaicho seems just as calm and unaffected as usual and it makes me feel self-conscious.

My skin shifts to pink, with a little bit of purple mixed in, fully directed at myself. “I can’t give you that? No place I could touch?”

“No. Well, there is… No.”

“There is, isn’t there? Where?” I push.

“It matters not.”

“It does,” I hiss out, suddenly realizing that I was so desperate to end the nonstop arousal that I agreed to something one-sided. Zha said it would be and I should have listened. I hate feeling like I owe something I don’t know how to repay.

It’s like almost every social interaction where I know they’re disappointed that I don’t know what they want. Except way, way worse.

At least the couple times I let a guy stick it in they got off on it. I mean, they made me feel like shite about being stiff, but it didn’t stop them from cumming. Better than the girl who said I couldn’t find a clit if it bit me.

I push the memories aside before I get lost in castigating myself.

“I want to reciprocate.”

“That word has no meaning.”

Dumb alien non-dragon things. Everything is to be taken, I guess. And hoarded. Though I have to admit that hugging me doesn’t fit that stereotype.

I let out a huff. “I want to give you treasure. Uh… expellant treasure. In return”